Why haven't I told you
by SakiJune
Summary: Pomona Sprout is back at Hogwarts after many years. She had loved, and she had been loved, but maybe it is too late now... James Potter II and Rose Weasley search for the secret of an ancient romance. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Note/Summary: I've written this fic as a spin-off of a longer story, "Back alone", set fourteen years after Deathly Hallows, and beginning with Neville, Harry and Hermione's discovery of a spell which resurrects werewolves. Remus is back, but those who cast the spell are sentenced by the Wizengamot. "Why haven't I told you" is set some years after, when Pomona comes back to Hogwarts: Minerva has retired, and Rolanda Hooch is Deputy Headmistress. But who is the Headmaster now? Someone who has never forgotten her...

Thanks to Sprinks, who betaed it. I wrote this story last August, when I didn't know that anyone else could ship them! Later... I found you!

* * *

Oh, baby, I've told every little star  
Just how sweet I think you are  
Why haven't I told you?  
I've told ripples in a brook  
Made my heart an open book  
Why haven't I told you?  
_I've told every little star, words & music by Jerome Kern & Oscar Hammerstein II_

Pomona lived in this king's reign. No other tended the gardens more skilfully or was more devoted to the orchards' care, hence her name. She loved the fields and the branches loaded with ripe apples, not the woods and rivers. This was her love, and her passion, and she had no longing for desire.  
Vertumnus surpassed everyone, even, in his love to her. Once, he entered the well-tended garden, and admiring the fruit, said: "You are so much more lovely". There was a specimen elm opposite, covered with gleaming bunches of grapes. After he had praised it, and its companion vine, he said: "But if that tree stood there, unmated, without its vine, it would not be sought after for more than its leaves, and the vine also, which is joined to and rests on the elm, would lie on the ground, if it were not married to it, and leaning on it"  
_shortened and adapted from Ovid's Metamorphoses, chapter XIV_

* * *

She had been a nice, plump, red-cheeked woman. So good-hearted, cheerful, and worthy to be the Head of Hufflepuff. The elderly white-haired lady who was crossing the entrance hall looked very fragile and pale, now. But the long-lasting affection that they felt for each other allowed Rolanda Hooch to recognize her and to walk towards her with her arms open wide. "Pomona! I'm so happy you're here! I knew you had come back, but... oh, darling, so much time!"

She was at Hogwarts. Twenty years later but, she had mustered the nerves to come back... there, where she had taught, cried, laughed, fought... where she had seen so many innocent people die...

"What about a cup of tea? And a room, sure, you're going to stay, aren't you? Oh, we've got so many things to tell each other!" the Deputy Headmistress jauntily said. "Let's go to my office!"

A seventh-year student (he was carrying a huge Advanced Potions book: he was, with no doubts, preparing for his N.E.W.T.) came near to them, greeting Rolanda.

"Oh, James. Do you need anything?"

"Well, yes, Professor. I've took some points away from my cousin... he went too far"

"Good" Rolanda answered. "Well, we must be fair. That Fred Weasley! Just at his first year, he already draws attention... it seems to have his father and uncle here, when... oh, how careless I am! Pomona, this is James, Harry Potter's eldest son, Gryffindor Prefect and Seeker. It's a pity this is his last year here at Hogwarts!"

"A young Potter? Are there more?" smiled Ms. Sprout, tenderly.

"Yes, of course. We have three, here at school"

"Nice to meet you, James, I'm Pomona Sprout. I was the Herbology teacher, when your father was attending Hogwarts"

James shook her hand. He was at the point of asking her if she knew Professor Longbottom, but he held his tongue. Sure she knew him, he and his father were House mates. And then, why talk about that? By now, he was long gone.

--

"Really, you didn't know anything about the matter?"

Ms. Sprout took a sip from her cup and answered: "I've just told you I never read newspapers. I mean... I've cleaned myself out, in a far-away country, with a different language; I felt myself different from the person I was, and I was sure to succeed in forgetting everything. But I'm here again, I don't know why. I've realized I need to spend my last years here, where in the end I've also good memories. But what were you saying about the trial?"

Madam Hooch began her tale.

"... No one has been sent to Azkaban, fortunately: Shacklebolt is still beholden to Harry, Ronald and Hermione... how could it be otherwise?"

"But Neville? What about my boy?" She spoke those words almost unknowingly.

"I know you were so fond of him... it's hard to tell you this"

"But what, what?"

"He's been exiled"

Pomona almost choked with her tea. "Kicked out! For having done right! Oh, things haven't changed at all, then!"

"Right, well..." Rolanda was now playing her role. "It's a crime to resurrect anyone. The Wizengamot just enforced the law"

But then she admitted: "I was so happy, though... when I saw Professor Lupin back and alive..."

Tea was getting cold.

_Maybe it's better if I go to Hogsmeade and book a room... Why should I stay here at school? If I think about it, I've come back just because I hoped to see Neville again. Why else? _

Suddeny, a red-haired girl opened the door wide and crossed the room.

"Professor Hooch! It's terrible, run, you have to run! Our Headmaster..."


	2. Chapter 2

The answer is too near to be seen.

I just want something unshaped from you,

because fragile things are useless.

Tomorrow will come, with his unknown face,

I will have to face the same troubles...

If this is my doom

I want to get lost and away

though it's a selfish act.

translated and adapted from "Kuroi Namida", M. Takeuchi/H. Nagase

* * *

"Rosie! What happened?"

"He passed out... Madam Brown says she just can't help him... we were writing... he went to the window and... he collapsed..."

They ran downstairs to the third floor.

"I had told him so many times to stop teaching" she muttered. "At his age, it's been foolish, all those responsibilities! What was he trying to prove?"

Scorpius Malfoy was waiting at the threshold of the Charms classroom.

"Professor Hooch, Madam Brown says that..."

There had been no explosion, no unskilled student had rashly handled the wand, this time. The nurse, Lavender Brown, looked resigned.

"I think that he is simply dying"

"No!" Rosie started, taking shelter in Scorpius' arms. In that situation, nobody said anything about their cosiness. "It can't be true... he must not leave us!"

The other students were talking in an undertone, overawed.

With a clap of her hands, Rolanda drew attention. "Go to the DADA classroom now, Professor Thomas won't be late."

They obeyed. Scorpius almost dragged along Rosie...

_It's natural: she was his favourite, just as Hermione was before. But... am I going to be the new Headmistress, now? No, no, I cannot be. Someone else, sure! I'll think of this later... _

"Take him to the Tower, in his room" she ordered. "I'll send an owl to the Minister"

She came back in her office. "Pomona? Sorry for having left you alone, but we have an emergency"

"Nothing serious, I hope!"

"I'm afraid so" Rolanda sighed. When she was not before her students, her frailty showed itself. "Our Headmaster is dying"

Pomona expressed her regret, with no idea about who he was, and decided to take her leave to the room they had set for her. She didn't want to cause any trouble at that moment, and she was quite weary.

Her luggage was tidily near the bed: her suitcases, her cat's cage, and her pet-plant. She had discovered and named that rare species herself. Not with her name, however. 'Wiffli Sucktili' was neither Latin, nor Greek, nor the transcription of ancient runes. It was just an odd tongue-twister which had amused journalists and other herbologists, at that time.

She put it down on the sill and caressed it: its leaves began whishing with delight.

"Are you glad, darling, to be at Hogwarts?" she whispered. "And what about you, Turnip? Do you like it here?" she went on saying, setting her cat free, and it began to purr.

_Oh, Neville..._ she thought, before falling asleep._ I would have loved to see you again._

But her dreams, that afternoon, led her mind far beyond the remembrance of her former students.

She recalled the look and the voice of a man, a colleague of her who used to visit her while she was busy with her plants.

_"I like your greenhouses so much! They're... charming!"_

_"Thanks, thanks. You are far too kind"_

_"That's not all. You are t__he most char__ming person I've ever known. Were I a little younger..."_

_"Oh, nonsense! You are joking! But look here, it seems like I'm not able to teach anything to them... Seamus Finnigan hasn't learned repotting the proper way yet"_

_He was surely joking, wasn't he? She had never been beautiful... and he just couldn't be serious!_

_Another memory..._

_"Is it true that the Chamber of Secrets has been opened again? Is it possible?"_

_"No, I just cannot believe it. But my dear, you are trembling!"_

_And then, when hard times had come:_

_"I can't stand this!"_

_"Me, neither. That bureaucrat and her methods! I don't know what the Ministry has in mind… I often think that those foul snouts are already in control..."_

_"You mean..."_

_"I am right to be afraid. I am not a pure-blood, you know"_

_"Neither am I."_

_"Oh, but it would be hard for me. Very hard. Do you know what Lucius Malfoy told me one day? That I should stop teaching, and start working at Gringott's, with... my peers"_

_"What! It doesn't make sense! You are the kindest, the most intelligent person here, now that Dumbledore... is away..."_

_"And I value you so much, that I ask you to be my ally in order to live through this bad time. Chin up, Professor Sprout! Our students can still reckon on us, we must hold up for them!"_

_Then... obscurity... the Carrows' crazy theories, the shadow of Evil upon the castle... months of terror... and in the end, that scream he had raised against Snape:_

_"You'll do no more murder at Hogwarts!"_

_They had fought together, they had done of their best together, and Harry Potter had won through! They were free, everything had been reverted into normality..._

_But not in her mind. Every corner, every corridor, every classroom was reminding her of horrible events, threatening silhouettes seemed to appear everywhere. She was feeling like she was going mad. It was necessary to clear out, to start a new life, far from that anguish..._

_But far from him, too – when it would have taken so little to tell him -_

"Wake up, Madam, you must get up at once!"

It was already dark outside. How long had she slept? And how had that boy entered her room?

"You must hurry up..."

"Is it an evacuation? I'm old, you know, I cannot run! And I'm in my nightgown!"

"It doesn't matter. Go in, there's no time left!"

He pushed her in the fireplace, threw the Floo Powder and pronounced distinctly:

"Headmaster Flitwick's Tower!"

POOF!


	3. Chapter 3

"Why are you at my side?  
How can I be any help to you now?  
Give me a chance and I'll let you see how  
nothing has changed.  
Deep in my heart I'm concealing  
things that I'm longing to say,  
scared to confess what I'm feeling  
frightened you'll slip away.  
You must love me"  
_(You must love me, Tim Rice/A.L.Webber)_

* * *

No... she could not have heard that name. It just could not be him!

Anyone else but him...

_How could it be otherwise? Have I ever known, after Dumbledore, a man so pure at heart and worthy to hold that position?_

Rolanda walked towards her as she saw her appearing in the fireplace.

Pomona looked around. The room was full of people: the whole teaching staff, six and seven year students, the ghosts, and even Peeves were holding vigil at their beloved Headmaster's bedside, witnessing his agony.

"She's here, Filius, she's back. Look!"

He turned his head slowly, trying in vain to make out her face, already bleary-eyed.

"Why did you run away? Evil was gone... we could have lived here... together"

She began crying, and crying, and she just couldn't stop.

"Oh no, darling, don't weep over me. Weep over yourself if you wish. You should have believed me then!"

It was true! He loved her! He had been waiting, day after day, to see her back... but his words were so harsh now!

"I... am so so-sorry" she stammered.

"When I read about you... oh, how could I guess... it was so clear, but it took me ten years to solve it. You, a Hufflepuff... not the kind of puns and anagrams... you have called me someway, but I couldn't hear"

Ten years? The discover of "her" plant was disclosed about at that time.

"Today I was looking out, thinking of you... and I suddenly understood. You loved me too..."

His eyes stopped looking for her. Maybe they had found something better.

"Yes! I do! I still do!" Her voice broke, while she was holding and shaking his hands... and she threw herself on his breast, suddenly so silent, while tears kept running across her face...

"Filius, wait! I haven't really told you yet!" It was useless, she realized that, but she couldn't stop herself from shouting it. She wanted everyone to hear, to know how much she had loved him!

And those words echoed in the room, while Dean Thomas kept looking at the floor and Rosie bit her lips, nestled in Scorpius' arms.

"Dean?"

"Yes?"

"Please, you and Lavender, do what... must be done. And when Shacklebolt comes, tell him that I won't leave my place. I would like _you_ to run Hogwarts from now on. If he agrees, I think it is the best solution"

Dean was so astonished that he just didn't reply to Rolanda's offer.

_Me? I would be the youngest Headmaster of this school since its formation. But can I? Will I be able to?_

Rolanda took her woolen cloak off and wrapped Pomona's shoulders with it, while she was still sobbing, knelt next to the bed.

"Why haven't I told you? Why?"

In Gryffindor dormitory, the hours were elapsing slowly, beaten by the students' regular breaths and the constant slamming of a little window left open. Rosie was awake in the darkness, tossing and turning among the sheets, unable to get asleep. Almost a month had passed.

Eventually, she got up from bed and quietly went downstairs, to the Common Room. She was going to open her books and study...

"Merlin! Why are you awake?" A familiar voice made her start. James Potter had entered the room.

"And you, why were you out?" she asked back.

"Have you forgotten I am a Prefect? I'm back from an inspection down in the dungeons. Your boyfriend and his Slytherin mates always steal food from the kitchens against the rules"

"You did not take any points from his House, did you?" Rosie asked, a little worried but also amused.

"Not this time... but I've seized the booty!" He opened a bag he was keeping under his cloak. It was full of muffins. "Do you want some?"

_Uncle Percy is right when he says that you should never feel superior to others because of your position, to someone's detriment. But for your own benefit, sometimes... _

"James, do you remember Headmaster Flitwick's last words?"

Again! She seemed to have got it over, so why she was talking about that subject again? "Which ones in particular? The story of the anagram he deciphered after ten years?"

She nodded, with her mouth full. "What do you think he meant?"

Though relieved that her appetite wasn't lacking, James was suddenly aware of two things: first, if they didn't unfold that mystery, Rosie would keep on brooding over it, and then... this was his last chance to grant a little adventure to himself before the exams.

"There's just one way to know it. Let's go!"


	4. Chapter 4

"When, in advance to your amazement,  
they will come and ask you about our romance,  
don't hurry telling them of such a long-lasting love,  
as they are skilled in drawing attention"  
_(translated from "Verranno a chiederti del nostro amore", by Fabrizio De André)_

* * *

Rosie had not understood what James had in mind, precisely. But she was sure they were getting themselves in trouble.

"No, it's better if you don't do anything. I'll ask Albus to help me. He's not risking his N.E.W.T., but you are"

"But Al doesn't _know_ what _I know_... and if Professor Hooch or someone else catches us, I'll say I'm taking you to Madam Brown's because you're not well. They always believe a Prefect's word. Don't worry." He took her by the hand. "Come on, Rosie, let's go"

The paintings on the walls remarked their passing aloud, and Rosie was afraid that sooner or later someone would hear them. In fact, a familiar floating figure crossed their way when they were very close to their destination.

"May I know your intentions, my young Gryffindor friends? What dangerous mission are you undertaking? If your purposes are worthy, I'll join you, but if you are traitors I'll oppose you!"

"Oh, it's just you, Nick..."

Rosie elbowed her cousin.

"Forgive him, Sir Nicholas, he hasn't learned good manners yet. I really think you can help us"

"I think so too, Miss Weasley. I've heard your talk in the Common Room. Yours is not just curiosity, is it?"

The girl shook her head, "I don't know. Perhaps, we should just leave it all to the past."

"Kirstie," the ghost whispered, and disappeared.

"What did he say?"

James smiled. "Sure, the password for the gargoyle. It's Headmaster Thomas' daughter's name."

"So your plan is to enter the Tower... and about the thing you know and Albus doesn't?"

"It's this: we can ask him directly."

"Ask Headmaster Thomas? What do you think he knows about..."

"Ask Headmaster Flitwick's portrait, I mean."

"I will not speak to those who, though so many days have run on, keeps shedding tears on my memory. In my life, I desired only smiles around me. I have no regard for people who don't look ahead."

They were just before the portrait. From the other frames, Dumbledore was looking at them, touched, while Phineas Nigellus Black had raised his eyes to the ceiling, meaning: "Soppy Gryffindors...".

James was so cheeky to come out with: "I'm not weeping, do you see? I'm just asking you what you meant..."

_Now he won't say anything else,_ Rosie thought, ashamed. _He won't say anything else because I am a drip and a snoop, and I didn't deserve his affection.  
_  
"Wiffli Sucktili"

"What? This is the anagram you didn't understand for ten years? And what's the solution?"

The hand in the painting indicated the bottom edge of the frame. There was a small brass plate with his name inscribed upon. The letters moved, overlapping and mixing, until forming that strange tongue-twister. Then they moved again to their original place.

"Ten years to understand that she had devoted her triumph... to me..."

"Come on, Filius, it's better if you don't explain everything to them," Dumbledore jumped in the conversation. "Let them go on with their quest!"

He agreed, and they both slipped away from their pictures.

James would have liked to kill the both of them, if they weren't already dead. Disdained, on instinct he turned to the next portrait: a black-haired, yellow-skinned man.

"Snape... sure! Rosie, do you remember when my father told us about the Battle of Hogwarts? When he discovered that Severus Snape had always secretly protected him?"

She nodded.

"Dad had seen his memories in the Pensieve. It's a magical device where you can put the things you have in mind, when... they are too much... are you listening?"

"Yes, but even if we find it, and I doubt we will as we don't know its shape, Headmaster Thomas must have emptied it by now and put his business in!"

Rosie was so busy thinking negative that she had forgotten to talk in a whisper. Suddenly they could hear footsteps. She looked at James, in a panic as she realized someone was coming. The door opened…


	5. Chapter 5

"Memories pressed between the pages of my mind  
Memories sweetened through the ages just like wine  
Quiet thought come floating down  
And settle softly to the ground  
Like gold of Autumn leaves..."  
_Memories; words & music by B. Strange - S. Davis_

* * *

They were before Headmaster Thomas. He wore his pajamas and slippers.  
He did not look angry, despite finding them in his office late at night, but they were afraid all the same. Rosie feared for James' exams, and James was worried because they had not yet succeeded in finding the whole truth.

"I would like to know what you are looking for, and most of all... who gave you the password to come up here," the new Headmaster said with an air of nonchalance.

James explained that Nick had given it to them. He did not know if telling the Headmaster would cause trouble, but he told anyway.

"All is well, then. Sir Nicholas would never betray me: he only does what is right. What were you looking for, anyway?"

"The... the Pensieve..." Rosie stammered, amazed. When he was their DADA teacher, he was a very strict person. But as Headmaster, he was showing his kind side.

"Oh..." Dean remembered Rosie's tears, her affection for his predecessor. She was Hermione's daughter, after all. He pointed a finely patterned stone basin. "That. I never use it, you know: I don't need it at all. And I haven't emptied it yet..." he went on saying, with a wink. "I'm going back to bed... close the door behind you, when you've got it done." Yawning aloud on purpose, he left the room.

"I've been asking myself for seven years..." James said slowly. "We really are well-connected, aren't we?"

"Sure, our parents are heroes. Without them, You-Know-Who would be still alive and Hogwarts would be a Deatheaters' school..."

"Don't make me think of that!"

"Professor Hooch is very strict with Hugo and Fred, however."

"Gratitude has its own limits. Do you remember when Fred made that mess up in Owlery? Those poor owls without feathers... they were freezing!"

Rosie touched the matter the basin was filled with. Nothing happened. She dipped her hand in... and suddenly she saw.

**Scenes of a troubled childhood, among Squib brothers and cousins. Laughters, insults, harassments of every kind.**

His first day at school. The sensation, unknown before, to completely belong to that place, to that world. Thirst for knowledge... all his time spent studying, great and little achievements.

His job interview with Headmaster Dippet... 

'Nothing of that, away, away...' Rosie thought as threads of memories tangled around her. 'I cannot find what I am seeking... Here!'

**Their conversations. Innocent words, polite expressions.**

An old-fashioned wooing, patient and soft.  
**  
She blushed. He hoped.**

They were at a standstill.

The charms he cast to protect the school. The Battle: the defeat of an old twisted-faced Deatheater and his desire of an admiring look from the only woman he had ever loved.

Filch was carrying her luggage out of the entrance and loading it on a carriage.

"It is not necessary you leave!"

"Tell me why I should stay, Professor Flitwick, tell me a reason, just one!"

And he didn't understand that it was a prayer...

"Well, our students need you, Professor Sprout"

She didn't answer and walked away from him. The carriage left, pulled by the thestrals.

"Mona..." he whispered, a tear running on his face.

Minerva McGonagall was frowning at him. "I'm terribly disappointed with your behavior... This world needs love. You've wasted the chance of your life, do you realize that?"

The next thread led her mind to a more recent recollection.

**Rolanda Hooch was all excited and waving a newspaper; he grabbed it and read the short article about the discovery of the Wiffli Sucktili, a very rare plant from Latin America. In the photograph, Pomona Sprout looked dreadfully ill-at-ease.**

The journalists asked her where that name came from, but she simply answered that it was not their business.

The last memory. The last he had the occasion to put there, at least.

**He was sitting there, in his office, gazing at that crumpled and darkened clipping. That he put it in a drawer, sighing. **

Here the thread ended.

"James, he's been waiting for her all this time"

"Oh, well... it sounds romantic to you, I suppose"

She frowned. "It is, it is."

"That afternoon, when he went near to the window, he began to think of her again, and he caught her old secret message. But too much time had passed: and he despaired of seeing her any more..."

"Professor Hooch hadn't told him she was about to be back, I'm sure. Maybe she didn't even know that."

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Well, there are no mysteries left. Can we go to bed, now?"

Rosie nodded. She was really tired. She cast one last glance toward the empty frame on the way before walking to the door.

"Let's go, Jam-"

"Goodbye, Miss Weasley"

She started and looked behind. Flitwick's portrait was in its place again.

"Don't cry any more. You've got a happy love of your own. Never let it slip away".

Headmaster Thomas never talked about their little incursion in his Tower.

James brilliantly passed his N.E.W.T., and a year after Rosie, Albus and Scorpius also did. On top of that, Scorpius was about to officially introduce his girlfriend to his parents. A Weasley girl! Draco would have never really accepted her, but these were good times, anyway. Everything was going to be fixed.

Pomona Sprout settled at Hogsmeade, and nobody was surprised that her garden was the nicest of the whole village.

_You've waited for me so long, honey... and I know that you can wait some time more... you will do, Fil, won't you?_ she thought, immersed in a lukewarm joie de vivre.

But then the terrible news came, and made even the old Wizengamot members shudder, ashamed of their own verdict.

Neville, _The Boy Who Defeated Nagini_, had been killed by a petty Muggle snake, in a natural reserve in the deep of Africa.

Just then, Pomona felt she had nothing more on earth, and prayed Death would let her join soon the people she had loved.

THE (SAD) END


End file.
